


Just A Little Help

by Orange_Coyote



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, and hermione is really the only one he can get it from, but there is lots of teasing draco so that's fun, draco needs help, no romantic inclinations in this fic sorry, still at Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4475591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Coyote/pseuds/Orange_Coyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malfoys never ask for help. They most certainly never beg. But no other Malfoy has asked assistance from Hermione Granger before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Little Help

**Author's Note:**

> honestly dramione is my favorite pairing to write  
> I'm very proud of myself from the AVPM reference I slipped in

Draco grit his teeth in a certifiably improper fashion. This witch would be the death of him!

“Would you  _please_  assist me?”

The girl had the gall to smile at him, as if a Malfoy begging was an amusing occurrence. “I will help you,” she acquiesced, “because you asked me to.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Great. Let’s go.” He reached out to grab Granger by the elbow, but one look at her pointedly upturned brow had him coming to the safer decision of leading the way by example rather than by physical force. He had been on the receiving end of her fist once, and that was more than enough for one lifetime.

“Where are we going, Malfoy?” the witch inquired after they had passed through three separate corridors without a word shared between them.

“Quiet, Granger.”

The witch sighed loudly, but said nothing further. Draco mentally thanked Salazar she decided to keep her ungodly Gryffindor mouth shut for once.

Once they reached the seventh floor, housing the Room of Requirement, Draco motioned for Granger to remain a few steps away from him. Even he admitted (in his mind only) that she was a clever witch, the brightest witch of their age no less, so he didn’t feel a need to explain himself before he began to pace.

Once he felt certain Granger wouldn’t interrupt his thought process with some inane comment or question, he shut his eyes and focused his thoughts on the objects he would need to find within the room to make this whole ordeal as quick and painless as possible.

_Two chairs, a telly that actually works, and a coffee table. Also some quills, a well of black ink, and a roll of blank parchment._

The room could be fickle with the way it granted the user’s requests, much like the imagined genies found in Muggle legends, so Draco refined his mental picture to be as specific as possible.

As he walked past the enchanted wall for the third time, a dark mahogany door shimmered into existence. Draco stepped closer, opening the door a crack and taking a quick peek inside. Feeling satisfied with the results, he nodded to Granger and opened the door fully so she could enter in front of him.

She looked vaguely surprised at his show of manners, but said nothing as she strode through the entryway.

Draco rolled his eyes for the fourth time since finding her in the library earlier on. She may be a Muggle-born and an annoying know-it-all, but his mother had taught him to be chivalrous, thank you very much.

He cautiously joined her inside the room, keeping aware and alert of the witch’s every movement in case a hostile situation suddenly arose. You could never be too sure with Gryffindors.

Her soft smile morphed into a satisfied smirk when she spotted him standing guard by the door. “Afraid of me still, are you?”

Draco scoffed. “As if. I’m simply loathe to get this started. I’ll owe you a favor after this.” He emphasized the word favor with an exaggerated shudder.

“I’m sure that’s true, as well.” Granger took a seat in one of the grey upholstered wing back chairs the room had provided and gave him a look.

He found himself taking the seat beside her before he even comprehended his feet moving beneath him. Had she just  _silently compelled_ him? No wonder Weaselbee and Potter obeyed her every command. She held the same aura as McGonagall: not exactly physically intimidating, but once glance made it perfectly clear they meant business and had the knowledge and spells in their repertoire to back it up.

“What exactly did you need my help with?”

Draco sighed, fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper as he pondered the exact wording his answer would take. He had to ensure he didn’t come across as incompetent, yet still clueless enough that Granger’s Gryffindor morals would force her to help him regardless of the relative simplicity of the assignment.

Despite his better judgment, which was telling him to spin this in a way that made it seem like he was the one helping her or some other convoluted half-truth, he pushed the truth past his lips hurriedly before he could change his mind.

“I’m confused by an assignment from Professor Crabtree.”

Granger merely stared at him. Draco felt distinctly uncomfortable under her keen gaze. He nearly repeated himself, another thing Malfoys never do, thinking perhaps she hadn’t understood his rushed words. But then she laughed.

“You’re taking Muggle Studies?  _You?_ The Prince of Slytherin?” She chuckled dismissively. “What, are you being coerced?”

“I can see why you would come to that conclusion,” Draco replied in his signature Malfoy drawl. Hopefully the tone in conversation would remind the witch exactly who she was dealing with. “Alas, I signed up for the course myself in a fit of temporary insanity and must now suffer the consequences. Mother seems proud of my willingness to embrace change, at least. Even she grudgingly admits Muggles aren’t all bad.”

The last comment had its desired effect. Granger’s countenance instantly turned from mirthful to contemplative.

“So you’re taking this lesson seriously?”

“I am,” he affirmed.

“And I assume I’m the only person of muggle heritage you really know, aside from Harry of course, which would explain why you asked me, of all people, for assistance.”

“Correct.” He’d let her jump to conclusions. No way would he tell her she was the first and only person he’d planned on asking.

“I have to admit, I was curious what this would be about when you first approached me. Now I’m just a tad surprised, a little baffled even.”

“The great Know-It-All Granger not knowing something? Owl The Prophet!” he cajoled.

She merely smiled. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Draco stored that tidbit of information in his mind for later contemplation before bringing their conversation back to the topic at hand. “Right. No surprise there. Does that mean you’ll help me or not?”

“Sure, with a few conditions.”

“A catch,” Draco groused. “There’s always a catch.”

“You will not insult myself or my friends in my presence, firstly.”

“Reasonable enough.”

“Secondly, you will not question any advice I give regarding this assignment.”

“Fine. And?”

“Thirdly, you will not approach me in front of Harry or Ron. I don’t exactly trust them to refrain from hexing you on sight.”

Draco shivered involuntarily, the flash of light bright in his mind the day Potter had shot Sectumsempra at him. “I agree to your conditions. Shall we shake hands and seal the deal?”

“Like an Unbreakable Vow?” Granger wondered aloud.

“No, like two Muggles shaking hands,” Draco ascertained. “No magic involved.”

“I trust you are good to your word?”

“Of course. I’m a Malfoy.” That sentiment clearly did nothing to convince her, so Draco belatedly added, “You have my word. And, unlike my father, I only give my word sincerely.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and the duo shook hands. Draco felt a minuscule shock run briefly across his palm, but mentioned nothing of it. The witch probably couldn’t help herself testing the truthfulness of his words. In her situation he would have done the same.

“Good. Now, what precisely does your assignment entail?”

Draco withdrew a roll of parchment from his robe’s inner pocket and read the instructions aloud. “The student is to choose one Muggle telly show and watch a minimum of one series/season. They will compose a critical review at least the length of four feet or three thousand words. A magically enhanced telly is available to students in the classroom upon request. The due date for this assignment is the 25th of February. Extra points are available in the form of visual aids such as posters, slang glossaries, and character maps. An expert will be consulted to verify the correctness of all reports.”

Granger stared at him blankly for a moment before once again devolving into laughter. “ _This_  is what you needed my help with? Watching a telly show. Afraid it would offend your Pureblood sensibilities perhaps?”

Draco merely scowled, allowing her mood to pass fully before deigning to respond. “Shut up, Granger. This is serious.” He paused for effect prior to adding,”You of all people know homework is nothing to joke about.”

Granger sobered quickly. “That’s true. Okay, what show did you watch?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would watch with me,” he admitted slowly. “To explain any Muggle idioms as they crop up.”

“Does  _anyone_ aside from Neville and a few first years actually attempt their work before begging my help? Honestly.” The witch ran one hand through her curls, a habit she had picked up from spending years with Harry; thankfully the strands were tangle free. “Fine. But since I’m forced to be spending my otherwise free time on this endeavor, I’ll pick the show.”

“It’s only fair,” Draco concurred placidly. He didn’t mention the fact he had planned to ask her for show recommendations. Let her believe he had at least put some tiny amount of effort into planning his project.

“We’ll watch Sherlock,” she announced, giving a brief moment of silence in order to hear her companion’s opinion on her decision. When no such answer seemed forthcoming, she assured him he would enjoy the plot of it all. He may even relate to some of the characters, she insisted.

“Sure. Great.”

“You won’t be nearly as apathetic after you’ve seen the first series,” the witch promised.

Three hours later, with intermittent pauses taken for bathroom and food breaks as well as moments in which Granger explained an item or the two argued over various theories regarding the culprit of each episode, Draco reluctantly praised Granger for choosing such an interesting show. She hadn’t been exaggerating its appeal at all.

As the clock struck eleven, they parted ways with a promise to meet up again the next day to watch series two.

**Author's Note:**

> p.s. that shock Draco feels is a different kind of magic


End file.
